“So what was all that shit about me and Lauren?”
Mancuso looked blankly back at him.
“When was the last time you were in touch with Kate Bloom?”
Thorne sat back in his seat. Hearing her name from the agent’s mouth stunned him. Had Blake killed her? He couldn’t lose her again, he wouldn’t survive.
“I don’t know. Before I came up here. She broke up with me.”
Corrigan’s eyes lit up. “She broke up with you and nobody’s seen her since?”
“Jesus. You make it sound like I dissolved her in acid.”
“You’re right at the center of everything, aren’t you?”
Thorne stared at the two agents. If she was still alive, Kate's best chance was for him to come clean, lay the whole thing out in front of the FBI. They had the people, the technology to find her. To track Blake down. The right word from him could unlock it all, but only if they believed him. Revealing everything would make him hard to take seriously, as well as party to any number of crimes, including murder.
“I ask myself,” Mancuso said, “how can one person be so close to all these different events and not be somehow connected? Doesn’t that seem odd to you, Agent Corrigan?”
“Very much so. Suspicious even.”
Opening up to the FBI would be a mistake.
He'd be arrested and Kate would be on her own.
“Are we done here?”
Mancuso smiled and slid a business card across the table at him, and tapped the center of it once with his index finger.
“If you think of anything, don’t hesitate to contact me.”
He reached out to take the card, but Mancuso held it in place.
“Don't go leaving town without telling me first, you hear?”
Thorne stood and the others did the same.
“Just a moment,” Mancuso said, his face twisting. “I got a favor to ask. A friend of mine in the D.C. office is a fan of your show. He asked me to get a picture, you mind?”
He could hardly believe it. They had practically kidnapped him off the street and questioned him without charge for an hour and a half and now they wanted mementos. Nevertheless, it always made him feel good to hear about fans of the show and he liked how the agent had willingly made himself look foolish on behalf of a friend.
“All right, but I don't want anything turning up on Facebook.”
Thorne stood in front of a wall with a map of the county pinned to it. Light from the window was coming in at a high angle and the Venetian blind cast a stripped diagonal shadow across the wall behind his head. It looked like a scene from a noir movie, which he thought was about perfect. Mancuso lifted his cell phone up in front of his face and Thorne heard the fake shutter sound as the old man took his picture. He liked the idea that an FBI agent was a fan of his show about an FBI agent. Maybe there was a compliment in there, a validation. The shutter sounded several more times.
The door closed and he noticed the two other men had left.
“What was all this really about? And don’t tell me procedure.”
The agent lowered the cell phone.
“You’ll find out soon enough is my guess.”
FIFTY-FOUR
Thorne stood in the mall parking lot next to his rental car. It was the first time he’d been back since the shoot-out and it felt like he was walking over his own grave. He reached out and tried the door handle. Locked. He sighed. He hadn’t expected anything else, but it never hurt to try. He bent down to the glass and used his hand to shield the sun. It was a real mess in there, even more of a mess than he’d left it in.
Cabot had taken his keys and performed an illegal search.
Thorne sighed. It was a pattern of behavior he recognized. On his TV show, Jake Vasco had frequently done the same thing. He was a classic rebel, following nobody’s rules but his own to get the bad guy. Now that he was the bad guy, he didn’t find it half as amusing. There was only one thing in the car that could cause him problems and he could see from the angle of the sun visor that Cabot had found it.
He’d found it, and he’d removed it.
In order to use the picture against him, Cabot would have to return here ahead of a legal search and plant it. So he’d kept the car keys. He’d taken the evidence with him to protect it, but there was a huge flaw in his plan.
Thorne took out his cell phone and dialed a number.
“Enterprise, San Jose. Tracy speaking.”
“I need to talk to someone about my rental.”
“What’s your name?”
Her tone was friendly, bright.
“Christopher Thorne.”
“One moment, sir.” He could hear keys being pressed, more than just typing in his name. The woman hummed to herself while she did this. “Okay, it seems we have been trying to contact you for several weeks. Your car was due back on the fourteenth of last month.”
“I'm sorry. I was hospitalized in Santa Cruz and forgot about the car.”
The line went silent for a moment.
“You're that guy that's been on the news?”
“Yes, ma’am. My situation here has changed and I’m hoping you might be able to collect the car for me. Unfortunately, I’ve lost the keys and I'm ashamed to admit that it’s going to need a clean inside as well. Would you be able to get this straightened out for me, Tracy?”
“Could you hold for one moment please?”
“Sure.”
This time there was no humming, he heard music. California Dreamin’ by The Mamas and Papas. Whatever happened for the rest of the day, this song would be playing in his head. He hoped she wasn't going to transfer him to someone else, he didn't want to start over from the beginning. After almost two minutes, the woman came back.
“Where is the car at present?”
“The Capitola Mall parking lot.”
He heard this being typed in.
“That's no problem. Do you have any personal effects inside the vehicle?”
“Nothing I need.”
“Perfect. Okay, everything is all set. You will notice a return on your credit card within 3 working days representing an accrued daily fee and your original payment.”
Thorne frowned.
“You're not charging me anything for the car?”
“That's correct.”
“I don’t understand.”
The woman laughed.
“It’s our special hero rate. Will there be anything else today?”
“That’s it.”
“Have a wonderful day, Mister Thorne.”
He thanked her and disconnected.
Across the lot, Lauren stood next to his Maserati her face turned up toward the sky, arms folded on top of the roof. She was thirty feet away and wearing dark sunglasses, but he could tell she was upset. He’d tricked her into coming here, a place that was nothing but a nightmare for her, and she wasn’t pleased with him.
One thing at a time.
Cabot had his incriminating picture of Lauren and her husband, but unless it was found inside his rental it meant nothing. The only thing that made it relevant, was when he’d printed it. Planting it somewhere else wasn’t going to work. Thorne smiled as he walked toward Lauren. Her head dipped, coming down from the sky to look at his face. He kept on smiling, like it was a light with a brightness control he kept turning up. Her mouth was a flat line, but he didn’t stop. He smiled all the way back, then stood across the roof from her, smiling straight into her face. Finally, she crumbled and laughed.
“Motherfucker,” she said.
He nodded, and let the smile melt away.
“I just had an idea. Two, actually. Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Shopping.”
Lauren smiled. “Cool. What for?”
“A really cheap suit.”
Thorne sat shirtless and sweating in the gym, fresh from another workout. The senator’s rowing machine was kicking his ass. He’d only managed twenty five minutes before he’d b
een forced to stop. His shoulder felt like it had a hot poker twisting about in it. He stood and walked over to a corner unit set into the back wall and drank from a glass of water. The fingers of his right hand were starting to shake. He took a handful of roasted almonds and chewed on them while he made up his second protein shake of the day. He’d dropped ten pounds since he’d been in Santa Cruz and he didn’t want to lose any more. Muscle mass had to be fed or it disappeared fast.
He finished mixing the shake and quickly knocked half of it back. It fell far short of delicious and he chased it down with another handful of nuts. The almonds were salted and the salt cut through the funky flavor of the drink. He turned and saw Lauren standing in the doorway. If he had to guess, he’d say she’d been there for several minutes. Her eyes followed the movement of his hand between the large cardboard drum of almonds and his mouth. Her face was screwed up, like she was disgusted.
“What gives with the almonds?”
“I was wounded once before, in Iraq. When I was in this field hospital, the guy next to me swore on almonds. Said they helped with the healing process.” Thorne shrugged. “Might be a load of bunk, but there’s no downside if he’s wrong. I like them.”
She stared at him blankly, like she hadn’t been listening.
“Being at the mall today, it brought it all back.”
Thorne nodded, but said nothing.
Taking her to the mall had been a mistake and he couldn’t honestly say why he’d done it. He’d grown used to having her around and had involved her out of habit. Since Ashcroft died, Lauren had gone out of her way to avoid being on her own. Even when she was swimming laps in her pool, she liked him to be nearby on one of the loungers, or by the breakfast bar where he could see her. It didn’t matter if she couldn’t see him, knowing he was there seemed to relax her and he’d gone along with it. But she wasn’t relaxed now, she was building herself up to something. She had something to say but didn’t know how to get there. Thorne finished the rest of his shake and put the glass down on the granite counter and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.
“What is it that you think you know?”
“It was you they were after, wasn’t it? Those fucking clowns.”
Thorne shook his head. She almost had it.
“No. Actually, it’s kind of worse.”
“Chris, you need to tell me. I’m going out of my mind.”
He sighed. This moment had been a long time coming.
“I wasn’t there by chance in that mall. I knew those men were going to be there and what they had planned. I was there to stop them.”
“I don’t understand what you’re telling me.”
“I think you do. I think you've always known. It's time to say it out loud.”
“That you were one of them?”
“Yes.”
Her face distorted.
“I’m going to throw up.”
“Let me explain.”
“No, no, no! You don’t get to explain. I want you to leave.”
“Lauren, look at me.”
“I can’t! How could you do this to me? I trusted you completely. I loved you. And all this time you’re-”
“I mean look at me and see what’s happened to me. They shot me remember? I killed some of them. It’s safe to say that I’m not on their side. I was being blackmailed.”
She glared at him, unimpressed.
“Did you even think about going to the police?”
“Come with me. There’s something you need to see. I promised James not to show you, but we’re past that now. You need to know what’s at stake.”
There was something in her eyes he hadn’t seen before. Fear. She nodded anyway, the corners of her mouth turned down. She didn’t believe him, and she didn’t believe that anything he showed her would change her opinion. He should’ve been straight with the Ashcrofts from the very beginning, even if that threatened his immunity deal. Right was right, he’d known that once. He led her to his room and opened his MacBook.
“I’ve done unforgivable things, Lauren, but I had no choice. The first time I saw this I thought it was you in this video. Next time, it might be. James thought that too, that’s why he helped me. That’s why he was there that night.”
She was growing angry with his excuses, he could see it.
“Chris-”
He held up his hands in surrender.
“Watch first, judge later. OK?”
Thorne started the video, then stepped back and turned away.
He couldn’t face watching it again. He’d seen it twice now and that was enough. He stood next to his bed with his head tilted back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. In truth, it made little difference if he watched or not, the sound told him exactly what was happening on screen. His brain filled in every awful detail. Blake’s low voice, the slam of the car trunk, the awkward limping footsteps carrying Kate. He could see it all. The chainsaw roared into life and he gritted his teeth. He wanted to cover his ears, but it probably wouldn’t be enough. Some part of it would get through.
He pictured Kate in his mind, as he had so many times since. The way she’d looked up into the camera near the end, the face she’d made for him. It showed love. It was a message to him. She knew who would get the tape, she’d seen Blake in that hotel bar. Perhaps she’d come to realize the fight she’d witnessed had been about trying to protect her.
He backtracked.
The Top Gun T-shirt.
If they’d made her get dressed, she would’ve been wearing more clothes. A semi-naked woman draws unwelcome attention. No. The T-shirt was what she’d been wearing in bed, he knew it in his gut. They surprised her, captured her either while she slept, or close to it. He was stupid not to see it immediately. It was the surprise of seeing her alive, he could think of nothing else. He almost smiled. She could’ve been wearing anything when they took her that night, but the only reason for wearing that T-shirt was because she missed him. It was such a personal item of clothing, there was little room for doubt.
Kate still had feelings for him; their relationship could be saved.
The video was short and soon came to an end.
Afterward, Lauren stood in front of him with tears running down her face. Her emotions were always close to the surface, but he knew it wasn’t a meaningless affectation. It was always real for her, she felt everything. He knew that whatever had existed between them before Ashcroft died was now gone but she accepted his involvement. After a moment it was clear that she had no words for him, and she put her arms around him and gave him a hug.
FIFTY-FIVE
Blake sat on the end of the motel bed in boxer shorts, bending and straightening his leg while he lightly massaged the damaged thigh muscle with both hands. It was healing well, which was more than he could say for his knee, which kept drifting out of alignment. He cursed Ashcroft. He’d staved a finger once during a high school football game and it had taken nearly six months to heal. Is that what he could look forward to, six months of limping?
The burner phone on his nightstand lit up and began to ring.
He held it wordlessly to his ear.
“Let’s meet.”
Thorne’s voice was flat, hostile.
“All right.”
“Somewhere public. I don't want to get into something with you.”
A buzzing sound started behind him.
Blake turned and saw Sara in her underwear with her foot on the toilet seat, shaving her leg. While she did this, she blew a large, pink bubble in gum. It was hard for him to imagine how she could be any more perfect. He waited for the bubble to burst and she sucked it back into her mouth, before speaking.
“Babe? You mind?”
Sara looked across with lidded eyes, reached out and slammed the door.
God, she was hot. He was going to marry that girl, he knew it.
“Where?”
“How about that coffee place where you ambushed me?”
Blake felt uneasy.
He thought about the coffee store.
The large picture window at the front would allow him to see inside before entering, but if it was as busy as last time, his view would be obscured by the line of people waiting to order. The store had a single entrance and exit, making it easy to box him inside. They could have agents posing as customers sitting at tables, even behind the counter.
The place was no use.
An idea came to him and he smiled.
“I got another idea. The mall.”
“Are you high?”
“It’s public. Lots of different ways in and out.”
“I’m not going there ever again. Think of somewhere else.”
Blake sighed. He supposed that was fair. Thorne had taken some punishment and didn’t want to go back. Pity, it would’ve amused him to go back to the scene of the crime.
He wondered how long they’d been connected.
Were they tracing the call?
He scrambled to think of somewhere fast, somewhere he knew.
“All right. There’s an Irish pub at Pacific and Walnut. Rosie McCann’s. There’s a bench out front on the sidewalk, be sitting on it at 13:00. If I see cops, feds, or anyone acting squirrelly, I’m out of there. You won’t even see me.”
“Whatever. McCann’s at 1.”
Thorne hung up. Blake sighed. He’d been about to tell the actor to bring some of his pain medication with him for his leg. He tossed the cell phone onto the bed next to him and turned toward the bathroom. Sara stood in front of it, watching him closely.
“Is it a trap?” she said.
“Probably. Hard to say.”
Night Passenger Page 45
